Master of the Fxxxing Victorious Retreat
by Morello
Summary: Elena longs for Tseng, and Reno can't stand it. Reno thinks Rude's pining for Tifa. Implied Rude/Reno. M for language.


**This is another one of those oneshots that just came along. I think it came out of thinking about Reno and Rude for another story, added to the phrase "Master of the fucking victorious retreat" which Kassi over on The Lifestream dot net put in her hilarious Reno GQMF (if you don't know what that is, have a look here if the link shows up. You have to take the gaps out and change the dot into a dot, or this site eats the link! www dot thelifestream dot net / forums / showthread dot php?t=10042&page=42**

**Then scroll down to Kassi's second post, and click on RENO. Sorry it's so complicated - but it's well worth seeing. So are her Tseng, Rude, Elena and Rufus ones! Warning - lots of swearing, because that's kind of the point!)**

**Those ideas became this angsty bit - I'm not sure how.**

**I owe a lot of people review replies, and will write them soon. Thank you for your reviews - they mean a great deal. I've just been very busy lately. I wish I could stop being distracted by random stuff, and get things done in order! **

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**Master of the Fucking Victorious Retreat**

Elena, setting her coffee mug on the low table and taking the seat next to Reno, opposite Rude, is just a touch too breezy this morning – something off kilter and hectic in her fractionally too-wide eyes.

"So," she says, only glancing at Rude, avoiding Reno's knowing, heavy-lidded gaze altogether, "I heard Strife finally married Tifa?"

Reno's hand twitches. He hates the way she makes everything a question, even after all this time – such a rookie trait – and he wants better for her - knows she could be a great Turk if she'd only get over -

But there's Rude to think about. Reno can't look at his partner, so he leans back in the seat, his arm draped over the back of the banquette, finding something of interest to stare at on the ceiling. "That right?" Reno says, boredom in his tone, but his fingers drumming on the fake leather, and his shoulders too tense. "She coulda - done better."

"She got what she wanted anyway," Elena says. Reno's eyes flick back to her, and hold her frozen. There's something so damn victimised in her hangdog demeanour that Reno aches to kick some sense into her. The unspoken name hangs in the air between them and it's like Elena wants him to say it. _Come on Reno – you're the torturer – do your stuff. His name. _It hurts – but she wants to hear it over and over – the one she thinks she'll never have. Make all the old jokes – the teasing that's actually bullying - but hell, who could resist when it's obvious that she wants it so bad, right?

Well, Reno's not playing. Not any more. She'll have to go elsewhere for her little fix of pain if she has to be so fucking _weak_. Catch _him_ –

But no one has ever caught him.

And now, with the nervous babbling.

"She's wanted Cloud forever," Elena's saying. "From when they were kids together. How could you 'do better' when you love someone? I mean – _love_?"

"_Love_." Reno tosses the word aside, leaving silence. And doesn't Elena just have to fill it up.

"Valentine said it was nice. Denzel and Marlene all dressed up. Would've been cuter a couple of years back mind you – Denzel's taller than Cloud now." She attempts a giggle and Reno wants to strangle her. "It was very quiet," she continues. Rude's still, listening, and who the fuck knows what's going on behind those sunglasses. Little masochistic frisson maybe. Fuck.

"Cid and his wife came. Yuffie was too busy – affairs of state in Wutai. Barret was there of course. Elmyra. I think Reeve went."

"Yeah," says Rude. "Reeve would have been there. I hope they're happy."

_No you don't. You hope Strife slams his bike into a fucking concrete wall so there's nothing left but a nasty stain. _No one's that selfless. _Love!_

Catch _him_ like Elena wasting life longing for an offer that ain't never gonna come! Or dreading it. Because what if – what if, after all that, it was nothing? And what if it was something?

Better to be certain. Have nothing to do with.

"They'll be happy," says Elena. "You know – as much as people are."

And was that a note of cynicism? Is reality finally starting to penetrate? Atta girl. Maybe there's hope for her yet.

Elena downs her coffee in two swift gulps, glancing at Reno as though she's still hoping he'll make some barbed jibe. He says nothing. Not a damned thing.

"Well," says Elena instead, "I can't hang around with you two wasters all day. I have things to do." She gets up to leave, and then her eyes fasten on something across the canteen, and Reno doesn't have to look round to know _who_. And Elena's smoothing down her skirt, so fucking prissy, and the air's suddenly static and she's _glowing _like raw mako – like that stupid tree they used to light up in the park every year – undying love or what the fuck ever. Yeah. And didn't Rude get over Chelsea fast enough once he laid eyes on Tifa's tits?

_Love. _

He's damned if he's going to look round and watch Elena humiliate herself again – looking for signs of the boss's indifference, or his interest. Wanting. Fearing.

No way to live.

"She's got it as bad as ever," comments Rude.

_No fucking shit! _

"Yeah?" says Reno, because it's an opening, and Rude most likely needs to say something. Much as he ever does.

"Yeah," says Rude. "I – know the signs."

_Weak_. But it's Rude, not Elena, and Rude's proved himself in every other way. And no one's perfect, are they?

Yeah," concedes Reno. "Must be rough. Sorry."

"About what?"

"You know. You – and Tifa."

"Oh _that_…"

Silence.

Then Rude says, "Elena should say something. All these years! Tseng – probably just needs a push."

Reno is still, his eyes veiled.

Rude looks at him, and away. "Sometimes…" he says.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"'Sometimes' _– what_?"

"Oh." Rude pushes his sunglass back up the bridge of his nose. "Nothing." He crosses his arms – uncrosses them again. Reno watches.

"I guess," Rude says, "Sometimes – it's better not to say anything."

"Yeah," Reno agrees, with a little too much heat.

Rude looks up, sharply. Silence unfolds between them.

"We should go," Reno says, at last.

"No – wait!" The urgency in Rude's voice startles Reno.

"Shit! S'up?"

"I – never had a thing for Tifa."

Reno stares at him. "Sure you did. You never used to fight her."

"No. But –"

"And you told me outright. We used to have those stupid conversations – 'who do you like?' And you said –"

"I lied."

"Why?"

"Because it was the only way to get you to shut up. And I couldn't – tell you the real answer. Not then."

"Why not?" And Reno could have bitten off his own tongue for asking the question. Fuck. "Don't – don't answer that. I mean – not my business, man. You don't have to answer that –"

And Rude's just looking at him, and he's panicking like a fucking rookie – babbling like Elena – because he does not want to know the answer to that – because he's afraid that he knows the answer to that – and what if it's nothing, after all this time? And what if it's something?

Reno scrambles to his feet and he can't meet Rude's eyes, but he says, "Gotta go, yeah?" And he's walking away thinking, "What the fuck?" because Elena's one thing, but Rude should know better – and things are fine as they are, aren't they? Why the hell would Rude – why the hell do they _all_ want to put themselves through it? And what's up with that?

Well – not Reno. Not the master of the fucking victorious retreat. And here he goes - victorious again - because no one's ever catching _him_.

He's not that fucking weak.


End file.
